cacophany

Resting on his vagrant windows
the sun flickering pendulously in his head
the moist grime sticks to his elbows
splotched with morning sickness
as the draught dwindles under his festering breath

he had not seen the sunrise
until today
when he woke up from his occult dream
lying deflated and nailed to the floor
staring at the wet ceiling
that dripped with pours of sweat
probably off her breasts
and kissed the embers
of his deliquescent eyes


In his room like a submarine
lit
he wheedled himself
that she will knock on his door,
and  illustrate how she gouged the plaster
do drop her love like
paper pins on his impressionable pillow


she
above his somber slough
                 all night long
stared at the floor she had flooded
                            again
with a drowning pail and ubiquity
of the frequencies she changed
beseechingly
as her confidant embarked on
his widowmaker
                       one last time